This morning as I walked through my garden, I was bombarded with images and sweet memories from my past. As I took in the beauty of each plant and flower, I was treated to a long forgotten memory of the special someone who was attached to that particular plant.
The old fashioned, pink rose, whose perfume floats on the mornings breeze. I am reminded of my gentle grandmother, who propagated this rose from the garden of her mother. 'Granny' planted this cutting with great care in her new garden. My childhood memory brings to mind an image of this 'cutting', not as she planted it but as the beautiful, giant bush it came to be. After my grandfather's death, my mother gathered cuttings from this precious rose bush and planted them in her garden, where they thrive still today. My mother loved to propagate plants as much as her parents did. My grandfather was a bit of an amateur horticulturist. He tried to grow everything! My grandmother, I believe, did grow everything! So, as a result of this love, I received several cuttings from the precious rose bush. One of which has survived, and is quite happy in my garden. It has been planted all over my garden in an attempt to find it's 'happy place' ... as I looked at it this morning, it has indeed found it's 'happy place'!
No comments:
Post a Comment